


All Kinds of Rubbish

by goldvermilion87



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-01-28
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 93
Words: 9,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldvermilion87/pseuds/goldvermilion87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for me to dump really really short works that don't seem to deserve their own stories.  Most Recent: "Lacunae" -- Drabble for Challenge 209 at great_tales</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Should've Known Better

"Once more: Tomorrow. St. Mary's. 12:00. Suit. Ring. No Phone. Got that?"

"Hm?"

"I'm reminding you again of what you have to do tomorrow."

"I know what I have to do tomorrow."

"Good. Don't delete it."

"Naturally."

* * *

"What token do you give as a symbol of your affection and integrity?"

"This…"

 _*brrring*_

"Sherlock! Turn that off! And give me the bloody…"

"Sorry, John. Got to run. This is important."

"Important? Sherlock!"

"Not now. Back in a few hours. You can start the reception without me."

"I'm so sorry, Sarah. I should have asked Mike to be my best man."


	2. I Should've Known Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of this drabble is "That No One Will Hear." (Every time I open this, it's reverted to the title of the first chapter...)

When he was a kid it had been one of his favorite Beatles songs. "Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door" sounded cool.

He was staring vacantly at his blank blog, when the song started. "Aaah, look at" and he skipped to the next track. He couldn't hear the word 'lonely' today.

"Sherlock, what's your favorite Beatles song?" "Eleanor Rigby. Be quiet. I'm thinking." John rolled his eyes and then wondered why. Because he met so many lonely people in his line of work? Because he was one of them? Or because he wasn't anymore?


	3. Risk

The pill was not a risk. It was harmless. Identifying the 'good bottle' was child's play. But as he brought it to his lips, his hand shook.

The bomb was not a risk. It was a death sentence. The semtex would destroy the whole building. But as he pointed the gun, his hand held steady.


	4. April 1, 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April Fool's Day at the Holmes house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the ages of the characters in Sherlock the same as the ages of the actors in my head canon. The relative ages of the actors are pretty much the same as my impression of the relative ages of the characters in ACD canon, and it's a convenient way to set exact ages. (Also, Carl Powers died in '89, at which point BC-aged Sherlock would have been 13/14, which seems the right age for him to make his first attempt to solve a real mystery and be rebuffed by the adults...) So in this droubble, Sherlock is seven and Mycroft is seventeen.

He could hear that his alarm clock had been moved a quarter of an inch. So instead of slapping it with half closed eyes, he unplugged it to avoid the wet permanent ink on the snooze button.

He scanned the room quickly for... yes, two… three thin tripwires… and stepped over them towards the bathroom. Did his little brother honestly believe that he would not notice that the tube of (dyed? … yes... that WOULD have been difficult to remove) toothpaste was a replacement.

He unearthed three more not-subtle-enough traps before he satisfied himself that his room was safe. He’d have Roberts remove the balloons from the wardrobe later.

He walked through his bedroom door…

Only to be doused by a bucket of water on a complicated system of pulleys and Roberts’s ladder. 

He didn’t miss the giggle or the snick of a closing door from down the hallway.

He’d been lulled into an unwarranted sense of security by the decoy tricks. Not a bad strategy from a child, he had to admit. Not the elegantly efficient April Fool’s Day trick waiting at the breakfast table. But Mycroft had high hopes for his brother. Sherlock was willing to do… _legwork_.

 


	5. Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Expansion of a comment in "And So Hold On." (But this is humorous, not angsty) :-)

**Orders**

John lounged in the doorway to Sherlock’s bedroom, and chuckled at Sherlock’s angry muttering as he made another violent adjustment to his tie. “So! The big day! Just sorry I can’t be there, mate.”

Sherlock stilled, and John’s eyes narrowed.

 “How _did_ Mycroft force you to accept this knighthood?” 

Sherlock whirled to face him, and grinned. “He promised me company.” He produced an RAMC dress uniform from his wardrobe, and shoved it at John. “Wear this.”

 “What?!”

“Mycroft sent it.”

“I…”

“Do hurry up! His car should be here in less than twenty minutes.”

“I’ll kill you for this, Sherlock!”

 


	6. Sussex Downs Cottage, 4 April, 2051, 10:46AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 25 member challenge on Sherlock's Chagrin at livejournal: http://community.livejournal.com/sherlockchagrin

"Whoever stole them is clever, John. He knows that I cannot examine the evidence, now. You have to…"

"Sherlock, your glasses are on your head."


	7. Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 25 member challenge on Sherlock's Chagrin at livejournal: http://community.livejournal.com/sherlockchagrin

"Look at you, you're all so vacant!"

"Sherlock."

"They are, John. Why is everyone besides me so stupid?"

"SHERLOCK!"

"They're ... drooling."

"They're ZOMBIES, you idiot!"


	8. The Dangers of Crap Telly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like _Lost_ , so I'm taking it out of Sherlock. :-D
> 
> Written for the 25 member challenge on Sherlock's Chagrin at livejournal: http://community.livejournal.com/sherlockchagrin

"This is dreadful—even for _Survivor_! I've only watched one minute, and it's clearly a confusing, poorly executed setup by the producers."

"That's _Lost_ , Sherlock."


	9. One Eye in the Mirror

  


"Hang on!"

"What?"

"You're wearing different clothes."

"Yes?"

"You _changed_ to look at a crime scene?"

"Some of us have a modicum of self respect…"

"Of course…"

"There was an ink spot on my lapel. It was—what _are_ you humming?"

"Song I made up."

"Spare us!"

" _You're so vain! I bet you think this song is about you! Don't you? Don't you?"_

"Huh."

"What? Don't you like it?"

"It's… almost clever, really... I can't believe you went to so much trouble just to insult me."

"No—haha!—no… no trouble at all!"

"You can stop laughing any time now."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're So Vain" by Carly Simon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6UAYGxiRwU


	10. Catharsis

Sherlock gazed in horror at the trail of devastation on the floor. He could still hear the whirring motor of the instrument of destruction.

When he closed his eyes, he saw the bright liquid that had spattered walls, bookcases, windows, and lamps, and then drip, drip, dripped downwards.

He imagined that the terrified dying had screamed as they were wiped off the surface of the globe in swathes.

So many footprints and fingerprints, bits of dust and dirt—anything that might have told him of the movements of the room's occupant—exterminated by a professional cleaner.

He hated Mycroft's office.


	11. Comfortable

"Don't sit in my— _that_ chair! You should be lying on the sofa when you're ill."

"Yesterday you said I needed to sit up to help me breathe."

"Yesterday your breathing was annoyingly loud."

"What?"

"I said, you sound much better today. Lie down on the sofa. It's much more comfortable."

"But Sherlock, I can't see the telly from here."

"What's more important? The telly or your health?"

"Maybe you could move—"

" _Will_ you just be quiet and let m— _ahem_ —and watch _Judge Judy_!"

"But I can't see—"

" _Shut up_! ... John, you really _must_ rest your throat."


	12. Seasons

He had always been an efficient cook. But he'd grown so bored after John married, that he began cooking intentionally complicated meals.

He became a gourmet detective. He would examine a dish ( _Penne all'arrabbiata_ from Angelo's) and deduce the seasonings, the method of preparation—even the suppliers of each ingredient. Perhaps it was better than solving crime, as he could improve on recipes (A hint of basil in the penne).

For years, cooking was almost completely satisfying.

The first time John sat at his table and exclaimed his approval of a ( _perfect!_ ) lamb curry, Sherlock realized what had been missing.


	13. Undercover Surveillance

"No. Not quite right, yet. Try again."

"I can't! My feet are aching."

"Don't complain. You need practice. You'll be wearing those shoes all day."

"You couldn't have found a more comfortable pair?"

"How should I know what women's high-heeled shoes are more comfortable? You could've bought them yourself! You're the one determined to go undercover as Ms. Theresa Macaulay! You asked me to tell you if your walk was convincing. And it's not. So, walk across the room again. And this time… sway your hips a bit more. Try to look graceful."

Fine, I'll… John! Is that a webcam?


	14. Chaconne

Sherlock rosined his bow, and the dust that sprinkled his fingers erased the sensation of blood… It had never bothered him before.

He closed his eyes, but he could not shut out the image of those two dead ones… Last week he had observed enthusiastically while three eyeballs dissolved in sulfuric acid.

His hands would draw living music from the cold wooden instrument—and only four hours before they had drawn the life's blood from a warm human body.

And yet, if he had not deflected the knife, the dead man would have been his killer.

He began to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bach's Partita in D minor for solo violin, 5: Ciaccona
> 
> Part One: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ke34bIxmVas  
> Part Two: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqkkHG1_tKU


	15. XOXO

My darling Sherlock,

How is Africa? Did you get that sunblock? Mycroft told me your address. I wore it in Cannes last summer, and I didn't burn at all!

I just want you to know that I love you and miss you, and when you've found whatever it is you're looking for, I'll still be here. I keep thinking about that evening in the park when you told me you had to go away. And even though it hurts to know how far away you are, I'm happy knowing that you're happy. I will always love you!

Love,  
Your Lexie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lexie is an OC from "Where Dreams Come True" and "From this day forward." I'm quite fond of her


	16. "Roast at 190C, Gas Mark 4 for 100 minutes"

" _If I have to have Christmas dinner with you, I want a real one—home cooked!_ "

"Well, I did—do! Still do. Besides, the mistakes are… part of the charm."

"For a pair of newlyweds! Not for sensible men who prefer turkey to charcoal!"

"But _how_ could this have happened? I followed the directions exactly."

"Clearly you didn't. Which proves my…"

"Yes, Sherlock. Next time we'll do it your way, and eat out."

Sherlock smiled inwardly, and added "recalibrate oven gauge" to his list of things to do when John went out with his Blackheath mates on Boxing Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my second (and more in character, I think) take on Sherlock and John's first Christmas dinner together. "Another Christmas Dinner" (my first attempt at this) was one of my first Sherlock fics, and I was still feeling out the characters when I wrote it.


	17. The Expendables

"I blame _you_ for this, John."

"I didn't ask you to come."

"I was bored."

"You insulted Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Mickey…"

"I merely intimated that watching superannuated pseudo-actors kill and maim is no demonstration of masculinity."

"Loud enough for everyone in the theatre to hear."

"Not as loudly as they called _my_ masculinity into question."

"You started the brawl, anyway."

"No. I am far too secure in my masculinity to resort to fisticuffs to defend it."

"I'm glad you are, Sherlock."

"And this black eye is still your fault! It's going to be nearly impossible to conceal…"

" _Very_ glad…"


	18. Happy New Year

It had been impossible to get a cab.

He thought of the milling idiots drunk on alcohol and the absurd hope that _this_ year would be better—because it was the "new millennium" (as if the fact that the number of the anniversary of an inaccurately determined birth year was divisible by one thousand were significant… as if this even _were_ a new millennium). They'd all wake to the same headaches, and the same dull reality.

And they'd made him late—thereby ruining an experiment that he'd been running for three months.

He sighed as the needle penetrated his skin.


	19. How many licks...

Dear Sir or Madam,

I preformed an experement for your advertesment I saw on holiday in New York about how many licks it takes for a tootsie roll pop, so you could know. I closed papers with the data ~~s~~.

Some of the papers are not done, which is not ~~ideer~~ ideel. That is because Lexie, Nick, and Jack were bored. But Mycroft says that a good scientist keeps all the data.

It was a fun experement

Sinceerly,

Mr Sherlock Holmes

PS: I aplogize that the closed papers are sticky. I told everyone to wash their hands, but Harry did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The commercial that Sherlock saw: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzhB0gF5GTI


	20. In the Nick of Time... ...Or not

**In the Nick of Time…**

He turned off the doctor's voice that started to describe the effects of blunt force trauma to the head… and the possibility of brain damage or death…

Instead he shouted in his best soldier's voice to get the attention of the huge man with the club, and took aim. Threat neutralized. Garland hadn't been a very nice man.

He pulled the blind-fold off the figure slumped in the chair, and began examining the battered head for serious injuries.

"John, I had everything under control! He was about to tell me who hired him!"

He rolled his eyes. "You're welcome, Sherlock."

… **Or Not?**

He relaxed his neck. Garland was striking with angry imprecision, so even blind-folded it was simple enough to hear the trajectory of the blows, and increase impact time to avoid severe cranial injury while he waited for the inevitable gloating confession. Within fifteen minutes it would be captured on his well-hidden recording device, and he could plan his escape.

Suddenly—Shouting. Gunshots. The thud of a dead body hitting the floor.

Someone had removed the blind-fold and was gently feeling his skull.

"John, I had everything under control! He was about to tell me who hired him!"

"You're welcome, Sherlock."


	21. Simple

Time of death 11:20PM. Severe rash. Swelling of the throat. Anaphylaxis.

No peanut products in the kitchen. Peanut allergies. Scent of peanut oil on his lips confirms.

Slippers have clearly been on his feet since 11:20AM. He was exposed while in his house.

Faint traces of lipstick around his mouth indicate recent exchange of saliva. Source of exposure.

He has a practice epi-pen, but no epi-pen in his kitchen, and no mobile phone or epi-pen among the items he threw from his briefcase. Both removed by someone who knew where he kept them.

The victim was murdered by his lover.


	22. Famished

"Why am I on the couch? What are you doing?"

"Because you fainted. And wondering when you last ate."

"Five days ago."

"FIVE? Sherlock!"

"You didn't remind me to eat."

"I was in Cardiff. How did you survive before I reminded you of these things?"

"I remembered to eat and drink. Now that I am burdened with a flatmate with nothing better to do than to remind me, I can put my superior intellect to better use."

"But I'm not always here."

"You should be. "

"Besides… I do have better…"

"Really, John?"

"I should've left you on the floor."


	23. "Slows me down"

He closed his eyes as the juices filled his mouth. He did not analyze the seasonings. He was content to allow the medley of flavors to wash over him. (Beef not organic as advertised, but that hardly mattered.)

He reached for his perfectly matched glass of red wine. (He should take more cases for restaurateurs.) He inhaled slowly before tasting…

No! That car that just turned the corner! Was that his mark? No way to know. If only he'd observed! He'd have to keep watching the street, but this time without distractions.

He sighed, and pushed the tantalizing dish away.


	24. Cougar

Sherlock's hand trembled almost imperceptibly as he accepted a glass from yet another of the women admiring his carefully calculated charm, and his deductive prowess—his eighth free drink of the evening.

"So, what can you deduce about me, Mr. Holmes?"

He blinked at her.

"32… divorced... but not before he bought those Ds."

"He didn't regret his investment," she purred.

He sneered and started for the exit.

"Call me."

"No."

"Then I'll call you. I'm lonely, Sherlock."

"Sure..."

"Where can I call you?"

"You know my name… Look up the number."

He stumbled as the door closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DkaRUtp3w8


	25. Scene

[ **John Watson** _and_ **Bill Murray** _seated at a bar, talking, laughing, and drinking. A chime is heard. John picks up his phone and huffs irritably._ ]

BILL: Him again?

JOHN: Yes.

BILL: That makes what?… seventeen times in the last ten minutes?

JOHN: Yes. Wants me to go with him to Chelsea. No idea why. Just says it could be dangerous.

BILL: Well I say if…

JOHN: [ _looking at phone_ ] Again?

SHERLOCK: [ _appearing out of nowhere_ ] If you really didn't want me to bother you, you could just turn your phone off.

JOHN: [ _sighing and standing up_ ] Next time, mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbc82aKC-RY


	26. Watching You

"For the past four years you have behaved utterly irresponsibly."

"Mm."

"You are thirty-three and have never been regularly employed."

"No, indeed."

"I have your best interests at heart."

"Highly laudable."

"Mummy's money will not be used to support you in this new endeavor."

Sherlock sniffed.

"Until you have convinced me that this change is genuine, that is my decision."

Sherlock closed his eyes.

"I hope that I will be hearing from you very soon."

"I'm certain you will, big brother." He remained perfectly still until the door closed.

He would strangle Mycroft one day.

Or just prove him wrong.


	27. My First (Real) Fangirl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note/Warning: Inspired by Jonathan Coulton's "Skullcrusher Mountain" (http : / / www . youtube . com / watch?v=2_ryNJVreiY)

"I can't believe that even you would do this, Sherlock. She is the Prime Minister's daughter!"

"Lestrade, she had broken into our flat nine times, littered it with stuffed animal puppies holding her photograph, and hidden herself in my bedroom. Even John admits that drastic measures were required."

"You, John?"

"Yes… but I didn't think you'd tell her that the food you were force-feeding her was puppy stew!"

"But that was the master stroke! She 'adores' puppies! Do you know how difficult it is to obtain puppies in bulk from the RSPCA?"

"You… I cooked… I'LL KILL YOU, SHERLOCK HOLMES!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional note: explanatory fic forthcoming.


	28. Double Trouble

"I worry about him, too—for my own sake as much as his—but I'm no snitch, money or no money. Besides, I don't even know who you are." Greg shivered as it began to drizzle.

"Very well." The man glared as at the rain as if it were personally insulting, but when he looked back at the increasingly wet detective inspector from under his large umbrella, his face was superciliously smug.

Greg saw the familiar expressions, and suddenly it all made sense… and he had to stifle a groan.

He didn't think the world was prepared for _two_ Holmeses.


	29. The Worst

John groaned and pulled a pillow over his head, willing himself to stay asleep.

He pulled his duvet over the pillow.

He shoved everything off his head so he could breathe; he tried to relax and think quiet thoughts.

Eyes still closed, he threw an arm out, fumbled for the alarm clock on his nightstand, and muttered a curse as he heard both his watch and his mobile crash to the floor.

Finally, he sat up and rubbed the sleepy fog from his eyes while he attempted to read the LED display.

Three o'clock in the morning.

"SHERLOCK! STOP THINKING!"


	30. Commitment

**Commitment**

John hesitated near the jeweler's shop. It was the second time in as many weeks that he had considered going in.

He imagined Sherlock's reaction to his purchase: "One carat solitaire diamond. Platinum band. Dull."

And maybe "dull" was right. It would mean a new life. No more risking everything to experience the thrill of the chase. No more dropping everything to dash across London for a text.

His phone buzzed.

 _Development re: Randolph case. Come to Barts immediately. -SH_

John put his phone back into his pocket and started towards the hospital.

The ring would still be there tomorrow.


	31. Tea with Mrs. Turner

Just yesterday, Marie, you should have seen my two! The poor doctor cut his hand, and he said it was just a paper cut. But Sherlock makes such a mess. You saw it last week, didn’t you? I don’t want a dead body in my house just because some people can’t keep tidy. Besides, Sherlock adores the doctor. But what was I saying? Oh! Of course! His hand. Silly me. He’d cut it, and I’d just convinced him to let me look when up pops Sherlock from nowhere, and drags him off to another murder! Men! They’re all the same…


	32. The Final Straw (again)

“You do not dislike running long distances. You want to be reminded that you can.”

“Yes.”

“And it isn’t that you were carrying a heavy load. As a former army doctor you are accustomed to heavier.”

“That doesn’t mean that I enjoy it.”

“But it wouldn’t make you angry enough to drop my phone into a bin in the middle of London. And I’ve left you at crime scenes many times before.”

“In the rain? Without my wallet?”

“Ah.”

John stalked toward the door, leaving a trail of water in his wake. “Next time it happens, I’m binning your computer.”


	33. Dull-sensed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flipside of the first drabble in this series, "I Should've Known Better"

…and the priest is having an affair with the (married) woman in the third row. These idiots keep getting married when…

A spider's nest between the railings? Whoever cleaned the church for John's wed…

Try to delete… Can't delete… Have to pay attention to this fuss around John…

Well, good riddance to him! Do it, and have done with this caring… Pass him the ring!

The ring makes it official. I hand it over, he takes her hand and…

I can't. I…

A call!

Not important. But John will believe it's for a case. I'll just run! I won't watch…


	34. Whose fault is it, anyway?

Two men crouched perfectly still behind a large pine tree, listening to a volley of rifle shots.

As the last echo faded, one whispered, "Do you think they've gone?"

His companion concentrated for a few moments and then nodded.

"Good. Now let me look at that hand." He pulled a small first aid kit out of a large pocket in his orange hunting vest. "It's just a graze. Shouldn't even need stitches."

"This is all your…"

"If you hadn't refused to wear Joe's hunting vest…"

"That's irrelevant. It was _your_ idea to hunt on the first day of Open Season!"


	35. Reading

"Okay, Sally Donovan. What's your game?"

"What?"

"You didn't alert me to this case because Lestrade asked you to. You called me in on your own initiative."

"I didn't…"

"Don't deny it. I deduced it the moment I received your text."

"And?"

"And you did _not_ truly mis-hear Morris. The coffee you bought was prepared to my taste, not his. So why are you pretending to be nice to me?"

"I'm not pretending, Freak. I read John's blog."

Sherlock stared after Sally as she stalked from the room. Then he opened the web browser on his phone and started reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a plot bunny. I'm hoping to publish the expansion in a few weeks.


	36. London, 14 January, 1987

John crouched, tensed and ready, peering through a small gap in the wall. Beside him, Roger continued to pile up ammunition. At the sound of a whistle from somewhere to his right, John leaped up, aimed, and caught Tom directly in the face with a snowball. The battle had begun.

Sherlock placed a bit of snow on his slide. After he failed to get any unmelted snow under his microscope for the third time, he hauled the microscope outside. The lenses fogged. He stared at the slide, grinned, ran into the kitchen, and put it in the freezer. Problem solved?


	37. Forty Winks

When John woke his wrists were no longer tied, but something was prodding his ribs.

"The circulation will have returned to your hands by now, so you can take this." Sherlock didn't look up from his phone as he held out John's gun. "Lestrade has sent someone for Jackson…" He gestured toward the thug, gagged and restrained much as John had been. "…but Ross is still loose." He finally looked up and smirked. "The game is on!"

John looked at his watch. Three hours of sleep. That would do him for the next twelve. He grinned and jogged after Sherlock.


	38. Recall

"Who is this? Why are you calling?"

"Sherlock, it's me. Why aren't you answering my texts? This is important!"

"No it isn't. I'm sleeping."

"You're… why are you sleeping?"

"It's _midnight_ , John. Have you no sense of decency?"

"Oh… well… You're _never_ asleep at midnight."

"Obviously incorrect. I was asleep when you called."

"I mean you're hardly…"

"John, you have clearly forgotten that in San Diego you are on a completely different time zone to London's."

"No. I just _assumed_ you'd be awake at midnight."

"You forgot about time zones—primary school stuff with practical application in real life. Goodnight!"


	39. LOL

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock groaned, and dropped one of his arms over the side of the sofa. “Yes, I know it’s a kitten, John. But save the hysterics for something else. It's not as if I vivisected it. It was dead when I found it. I needed to know how it died for a case. I conducted a necropsy. It’s a perfectly…”

“What? The dissected kitten on the table?” John appeared in the doorway holding a wet mug and a towel. “I’m not bothered about that. I hate cats. I just wanted to ask if you were having tea.”

“Oh… Yes, thanks.”


	40. Past Perfect

He stood near her while Sherlock and Mycroft argued. She looked up from her Blackberry and smiled.

"Hello."

"Hi."

John realized several things at once. First: he had desperately needed a shower _before_ chasing a criminal through a landfill. Second: he had buttoned his shirt wrong. Third: Anthea was impeccably dressed… and perfumed.

John fumbled with his buttons and grinned nervously. "That's embarrassing. It must've been like this all day. But I've been chasing Sherlock for forty-eight hours… and… well… It's just one of those days. You know?"

"No." She looked almost puzzled.

John blinked, and walked over to Sherlock.


	41. The Family Doctor

"But Harry, I don't want…"

"I said don't move, John! I have this ice for you."

"But it's cold. You're getting me all wet. Harry!"

"Quiet, John! You have a very high fever. It's very dangerous. THE PATIENT IS DELEERIS! WE NEED MORE ICE!"

"Ha—"

"Get more ice, John."

"But…"

"Now! You're my nurse."

"But I…"

"Go!"

* * *

"Here."

"Get some sticking plasters."

"Why?"

"For your wounds."

"But they hurt when you take them off."

"Don't you want to get better?"

"Why can't I be the doctor sometimes?"

"Because I'm bigger. Now be sick. Open your mouth for the thermometer."


	42. Lucky

" _One centimeter higher, and that bullet would've killed you. You're a lucky man!"_

John should have felt lucky, just as Bill Murray said. He was alive and he still had the use of his arm. But his subsequent discharge, months of therapy—physical and psychological—the emergence of a psychosomatic limp, and a sense of absolute purposelessness had started him thinking that if he were truly lucky, the bullet would have gone straight through his brain.

Now he picked up his cane, and stuffed it into the back corner of the wardrobe.

Maybe he was a lucky man after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favorite drabble, but I decided it was passable enough to post.


	43. "Plane Crash in Cornwall--Police Suspect Foul Play"

"Sherlock, listen to this:

" _Today the Met confirmed rumors that the deadly Friesland Air crash on Tuesday was not due to overheated engines as originally reported. Findings now suggest that the flight was sabotaged, though the official statement does not indicate whether a terrorist organization or an individual is suspected…_ well, it goes on. But wasn't that the flight Mycroft asked you to investigate?"

"Yes."

"So, if it weren't for your petty feud with Mycroft all those people might have lived!"

"If it weren't for my petty feud with Mycroft we both might be dead. So shut up. I'm thinking."


	44. Emergency Contact

"John, I'm in the middle of… John? Why are you… Oh…"

"It… it's…"

"I know. You don't have to…"

"She's…"

"John, I'm so… I…"

"Sherlock?"

"You're in the A&E at Ipswich Hospital, yes?"

"Yes."

"Are you injured?"

"I… I'm not sure."

"John, listen to me. You are in shock. Is anyone treating you for that?"

"No orange blanket."

"No orange…? Oh… John, find someone and tell them you're in shock. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I am on my way over right now. Even if you don't get any help I don't want you to move."

"Okay."

"I'll be there soon."


	45. Blinded by the Light, or The Case of the Detective's Bleeding Ears

"The arsonist will be nearby—he'll want to watch."

"Doesn't matter." John was still puffing from the exertion of pulling Sherlock away from the conflagration. "That doesn't mean you have to risk your life. We'll watch from here."

Sherlock scowled, and stared at the flames. John squinted into the dark.

"Sherlock?"

"What?"

"Do you think he could be hiding near that… that semi?"

"That what?"

"That semi over…"

"The lorry?"

"Yes, but Joe…"

"John this fascination with Josiah and his American travesties of the Queen's English _must_ end now."

"Dagummit, Sherlock, y'all can't be takin' my fun away now!"

"John!"


	46. OTP

“John?  You’re always a bit vacant, but you do generally keep your mouth closed when you’re staring.” 

John shook himself:  “Sorry… Sherlock, did you see this?”

“See what?”

“On my blog.  Someone named “madonnagurl77” put… this… on it…” 

Sherlock peered over John’s shoulder, and read…

 _A Foggy Day in London Town—the playlist of your LOVE.  Sherlock and John 4ever! <3_

“Oh, no, not again!”

“What…?”

“Alexandra.  Madonna is her idol, so this must be her username.  And this has clear signs of her atrocious taste and judgment. At least this time she didn’t…”

“It’s on your forum, too, Sherlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lexie’s playlist:
> 
> Foggy day (in London Town) (Michael Buble): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xMwGRUjK5MM  
> As long as you love me (Backstreet Boys): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Gl2QnHNpkA   
> Like a Prayer (Madonna): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lA983t3Rdzs  
> (Everything I do) I do it for you (Bryan Adams): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGoWtY_h4xo  
> Like a prayer (Glee) : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ao5QJURTAlM  
> I don’t wanna miss a thing (Aerosmith): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWd73bK9-zc  
> Only Hope (Mandy Moore): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ofeDruIwTM  
> Never Gonna Give You Up (Rick Astley): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDcuRgk-JEI  
> Because you loved me (Celine Dion): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTxnqUhhlIY  
> I have nothing (Whitney Huston): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxYw0XPEoKE  
> Open Arms (Journey): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggJt3C74bRE  
> Every Breath you take (The Police): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMOGaugKpzs  
> In your wildest dreams (Moody Blues): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmmPFrkuPq0  
> The Flame (Cheap Trick): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muhFxXce6nA  
> I Want You (Madonna): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TDHA1V0lqE  
> American Pie (Madonna) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkvpuOebd88   
> Unchained Melody (Ghost): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZoEwR9_Sy_M


	47. like mastodons calling across primeval swamps

When his Great Aunt Rachel told him _via his blog_ that he needed to bring Sherlock to her house to help her with "something mysterious," John's first impulse was to delete the comment and pretend that he hadn't received it.

Before John could figure out _how_ to delete the comment, Sherlock had replied that they would see her the next morning, at ten o'clock precisely.

Which, he'd thought, might've actually been a good—even entertaining—thing. Aunt Rachel was one of _those_ relations. He'd chuckled to himself as he imagined Sherlock's scathing retorts when she insulted his looks, his taste, his upbringing, or, best of all, his intelligence. Sherlock disregarded the social conventions that kept people like John from speaking their minds to old ladies.

What he hadn't counted on was…

" _Well, it's no wonder he's only working as a locum. When he was in primary school he was terrible in most subjects. I told my niece, 'he's either lazy or stupid, and I'm inclined to think that he's both.'"_

" _I can easily believe it, Miss Miller…"_

" _Oh, do call me Rachel, dear."_

" _Thank you, Rachel. As I was saying, when we…"_

It was going to be a long day.


	48. From Another Street

Jez walked a few feet from where he had been lying near a skip, just in time to be shoved back to the ground by the burly man in a balaclava who dashed past. About fifteen seconds later a tall man in a long coat jumped over his legs as he chased the first. Jez was just trying to sit up when a third, shorter man puffed into view.

"Sorry!" He reached a hand out and pulled Jez up. "Which way?"

Jez indicated a fire escape.

"Thanks!" The man grabbed the bottom rung and started climbing.

Jez shook his head.


	49. A Great Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The setting for this drabble is the one explained at the end of "Operating System" and also fleshed out in "And So Hold On."

“John wants to go outside.”

“He can’t. It’s raining.”

“He’s a grown man; he can go out in the rain.”

“Mr. Holmes, must I remind you, again, that we are professionals. We know what Mr. Watson…”

“Doctor.”

“We know what Doctor Watson should or shouldn’t be doing.”

“A Spring shower…”

“Mr. Holmes, that is a thunderstorm. He’d be soaked to the bone.”

Sherlock glared at the nurse, and then hissed to John.

“Medical professionals? If she weren’t the director’s niece… Anyway, here is the plan: After she leaves for what they dare to call tea, I’ll…”

The game was on.


	50. The Most Dangerous Game

The harpies' screeches filled the darkening wood. They slavered as they came closer and closer to the boy who panted and gasped as he stumbled through the twilight.

No longer instruments of divine vengeance, they pursued their prey for the pleasure itself. Fouling fruits and bread to spite an old blind man? What was that to ripping a tender young one limb from limb?

A root caught at his foot, and the harpies descended.

If John had known how Harry and her confederates would be inspired, he would never have begged Mum to let them watch _Jason and the Argonauts_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very much inspired by this: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/01/wolves.html. Though, in my headcanon Harry is older than John.


	51. Branding

"Stop needling, John."

"I'm not needling, I'm just pointing out, if you hadn't been such an arrogant prat…"

"Mummy would be ashamed of me if I bought clothes from… _Cabela's_."

"We're fishing, Sherlock! By the light of a kerosene lantern! In the middle of a Minnesota lake! No one cares. I brought an extra jumper that you could use."

"The red one?"

"Yes. Do you…"

"It's too small."

"Oh, for…"

"Cigarette? Grass'd be better, but it'll warm you up."

"I don't smoke, Josiah! I told you yesterday, and the day before and…"

"And I told you, Sherly, call me Joe!"


	52. See Enclosed

"Sherlock… are you… sweating?"

"This is a crowded elevator, John. I thought I had taught you to observe at least that much."

"Yes, but we've been in the elevator for… three minutes? We're still cool. And your hands are shaking! Sherlock…"

"No they aren't!"

"Yes, I can feel…"

"Do _not_ touch me, John."

"Sherlock, are you afraid of elevators?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then… you're claustrophobic! Sherlock, you're claustrophobic and it's _your_ fault we're stuck in this elevator!"

"Be quiet!"

"It's _true_. You created your own worst nightmare."

"No, John, be _quiet_! They can hear—Ladies and Gentlemen! Allow me to explain!..."

* * *

The text summoning him to the abandoned biolab was several hours old, but John decided to go anyway. If Sherlock wasn't there, John could just go home. Sherlock wasn't answering his phone, as usual.

John was about to leave the shop when he heard a noise from the tiny walk-in freezer, and realized. He giggled and opened the door.

Sherlock was just scrambling up, and arranging haughtiness on his face, but John observed the faint redness of his eyes, and the tenser-than-trembling muscles of his jaw and neck.

He placed a steady hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

He would laugh tomorrow.


	53. Dear John

Dear John,

I don’t know when you’ll get this, or when you’ll be able to call. But there’s no reason to mince words with my soldier: I’m dying. The doctor has given me four months. It’s pancreatic cancer that’s metastasized.

I’m scared. But right now I’m looking at all the business of dying… and I’m not prepared the way Dad was. Harry is too distracted by Clara and other things to be of much use. I know you would help if you were here.

But it’s more than that. I want to see you once more, my son.

Love,  
Mum


	54. Getting Better

"Something's wrong here, John." Sherlock was pacing back and forth in front of three dead bodies laid out in the morgue.

"Sherlock?" He didn't even turn towards Molly, though he did stop to look at John.

John stood with his arms folded. "Is it something missing? Or something that shouldn't be there?"

"I think something is missing, but…"

"Sherlock…" Molly held out her hand as if she would pull his sleeve to get his attention if necessary.

"What do you want, Molly? I'm trying to think!"

She pointed toward the farthest corpse. "Sh-Sherlock, is that body supposed to be moving?"


	55. Timeless Requiem

His violin sang the pain of a life without love – the horror of unappreciated genius – the torment of work that might never be finished. His bow moved faster and faster.

He closed his eyes. He needed to concentrate if he was to successfully express another man's…

"Mr. Holmes, if you do not open your eyes during rehearsals, you will be kicked out of this orchestra! I do not conduct out of a life-long desire for tennis elbow!"

Sherlock opened his eyes and blinked once.

Then he stood up and stalked out of the hall.

Mozart was an overrated prat anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Failed attempt at this month's thegameison_sh challenge. :-)


	56. Allegorical

"'… _just as the cave-dwellers hated the philosopher thousands of years ago, humans always hate the bearer of truth…'_ Seriously, Sherlock?"

"You said to make it interesting."

"I meant tell it like a story, not a lab report. I didn't mean... _this_..." And what are you talking about? The philosopher?"

"Plato's philosopher in The Allegory of the Cave. They killed him because…"

"You don't know solar system, and you remember Plato?"

"It applies to my…"

"Don't pretend to be a martyr, Sherlock. People hate you because you're rude, not because you have _The Truth_."

"I dis-"

"I'll write this post myself."


	57. The Adventure of...

“I predicted that I would get lost if you didn’t come with me, so it doesn’t…”

“No you didn’t!  I said, if you’re going to go without me you could at least take a map, and you reminded me that you’re the only one who’s driven…”

“Yes, well I _did_ say I was lost without my blogger.”

“But that was… fifteen years ago?  I don’t even keep a blog anymore.”

“I said it.  That’s…”

“Would’ve called it ‘The Driving Detective’…”


	58. 1 Sentence Story -- ASiB

"Mrs. Hudson, just try not... well... the socks... you remember..."


	59. 1 Sentence Story -- THoB

"But _**why**_ are we never playing 'Snakes and Ladders' again?"


	60. 1 Sentence Story -- TRF

He'd have chosen unpolished grey, but then Mycroft hadn't asked his opinion.


	61. Playing

  
It wasn’t her whole life—just a series of unconsciously recorded sensations:  
  
 _Chocolate frosting on Bill’s birthday cake  
       The scent of tea tree shampoo  
       Jackie’s large bloodshot eyes the morning Nan led them away  
       The clack of stilettos on marble  
       An accelerating pulse beneath her fingerti_ —  
  
Ah! She hadn’t been the only victim of a reaction.  
  
She typed the message—an abrupt modern _liebestod_ , or her final sting?  
  
Of course, the question was immaterial unless he’d chosen to embrace his body’s chemical defect… He couldn’t have….  
  
Then her own gasp… and his voice.  
  
Irene smiled.  
  
It seemed he had.


	62. Captain Stall

“So… four times.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Sherlock?”

“You didn’t…”

“I finally parked it for you, and I didn’t stall _four times_.”

“Well, I’ve never reverse parked before.”

“You’ve never… didn’t someone teach you?”

Sherlock coughed.

“What?”

“Hmm?”

“Sherlock!”

“James May.”

“You had driving lessons from James May?  How… is that why you hate _Top Gear_?”

Sherlock started texting.

“Sherlock… you didn’t _learn_ from _Top Gear_ , did you?”

“If you insist on watching that rubbish when I’m in the room I can hardly help observing.”

John snorted and opened the morning paper.

“Hang on!  Sherlock, do you have a driving license?”


	63. Better to Give

Molly fell into a chair, and picked up the small box.

It had taken ages to decide on a gift. And she'd put so much care into…

She wiped a hand through tears and bright red lipstick.

Took the call: _"…so sorry to ask, but…"_

"…but you're the only one alone tonight," her mind supplied.

John had mentioned something. It must be for _Him_...

"I don't have- I'll be there."

She took one last look at the box before she dropped it into the bin.

Then pulled on jeans and the nearest jumper, and grabbed her coat.

_Merry Christmas, Sherlock._


	64. Potential

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For rabidsamfan

John tried to ignore the constant clacking to his right, and told himself that walking really was effective therapy for phantom pain.

He ran his calculations one last time. He would never be able to afford lodging in London for more than two months. But moving somewhere quieter…

He could advertise, of course. But the prospect of a series of mind-numbing interviews with potential flatmates – that was almost worse than leaving London.

And then there was his mother's voice in his ear, reminding him that adverts might attract criminals and psychopaths – _Far_ too dangerous, John!

An advert it was, then.

" _John! John Watson!"_


	65. Apostrophe

“Clearly you’ve just come from Number 10.  You never get that smug look otherwise.  And tell your PA that she should not have changed her perfume.  Doesn’t suit her.  But the locked room case – don’t pretend that it’s for my benefit.  We know as well as you do that you need me, don’t we?”

He looked to his right.  For an instant Mycroft wondered if he saw a tear.  Then Sherlock continued.

“I’ll text you as soon as we’ve finished this case… If nothing better has come up by tomorrow morning I’ll send…”

Mycroft closed the door against the monologue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fits into the "Corruption" section of Operating System


	66. Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soo Lin's brother remembers

Soo Lin was already gone. She would never allow her food to spoil.

He walked into her bedroom, and caught sight of something on a shelf.

The picture was still in the frame he remembered from home. He half smiled as he picked it up and thought about the game they had been playing when his father took the picture.

He started to pull back the frame. The photograph would remind him of a time before she betrayed him and their new family. But no – she was less than nothing to him now.

At least he could be sure that her flight was unplanned – if she had not intended to return to this apartment, the photograph would be gone with her.

He cocked his head. Someone was climbing the fire escape.

Liang replaced the photograph quietly and scanned the room for cover.


	67. The Hostage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this picture prompt at watsons_woes:
> 
> http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/837242.html

" _Where is Sherlock_?"  
  
John looked up from his newspaper. "Won't you sit down?"  
  
Mycroft sat and crossed his legs elegantly. "You haven't answered my question."  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Don't you?"  
  
John shrugged.  
  
"If you refuse to give up my brother's location, then tell me where my umbrella is!"  
  
"Umbrella?" He frowned.  
  
"Yes, the umbrella that is being held hostage. By my brother."  
  
"Maybe you should let him on the Abbotsford case."  
  
Mycroft snorted and reached into his pocket.  
  
"Or maybe," John grinned, and held up a photograph identical to the one Mycroft had just produced, "You should ask these cats?"


	68. Also

"Barbican tomorrow. Mycroft is forcing us."

"I have a date."

"She's busy."

"She's - Why do I bother?"

"The LSO are performing _Also Sprach Zarathustra_ , so it might be bearable."

"Also what?"

" _Also Sprach Zarathustra_. Schubert's famous tone poem."

"I don't . . ."

"It was featured in _2001: A Space Odyssey_."

"I am a normal person, so I've never watched that."

"And that PIXAR film with the automatons."

"Also known as 'robots.' To normal people."

"It's referenced in every space film."

"Oh! Do you mean bummmm Bummmm Buuummmm BUM BUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMM! doom doom doo-"

"Yes."

"You could have-"

"John."

"Yes?"

"Don't sing."


	69. Overwhelmed

Yelling was pointless after that sound - he'd heard it on the tube! - stopped.

John wondered where Sherlock found stadium speakers, but more importantly . . .

"One Direction!?"


	70. Falling off the _Stoa Poikile_

  
Sergeant Jarvis watched the man lounging against a pile of coats while his friend disinfected and bandaged the enormous gash that ran from palm to elbow. He'd refused medical help when he _clearly_ needed stitches. She turned to Lestrade.  
  
"Sir."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Sir, you said he was . . . I mean, that's a nasty wound. And he's so calm he's nearly . . . stoic!"  
  
"Is he?" Lestrade looked around and shrugged. "That's nice. You'll--"  
  
At that moment the patient jumped up and started shouting about his phone and throwing things while his friend trailed along cursing and holding half a bandage.  
  
"Oh."  
  
Lestrade laughed.


	71. The Problem of the Purloining Poet

_The mind of man, that miserable wight,  
Shall not shine on a shred-  
_  
"Sherlock! Only _you_ would get a case with a psychopath who writes clues in Old English poetry." He flipped through the dictionary again, muttering "where is that 'd' thing anyway?".

"Eth is with thorn after 't'."

"You know that they're called?" He nearly ripped a page as he turned it, then cursed and slammed the book down. "Doesn't some Medievalist owe you a favor?"

"No, you're doing fine." And Sherlock swept out the door.

"I'm translating _bæfta_ as 'BAFTA,' and there's nothing you can do about it."


	72. Redeye from LHR

He wiped a hand across his red eyes and stretched his back, stiff from nine hours in a cramped aeroplane seat, as he followed a police officer down a dark corridor.

"Right this way."

He pulled his coat closer and stepped into a cold room.

"Can you confirm the identification?"

He swallowed. "Yes. Yes, that's . . . yes."

"Thank you. You'll need to sign . . ."

John Watson cursed his shaking hands. He cursed the Americans who had forced him to cross an ocean. He cursed the cold shine of the table. But above all else, he cursed the woman laid out on it.


	73. Fatuous Sunbeams

"Sherlock, if you miss practice you're definitely off the team. Mr. Seamus won't change his mind again."

"I know." Sherlock's lip wobbled and his eyes misted over. "But . . . but . . ." He dropped into a kitchen chair.

Bonnie was torn. Mrs. Holmes had been very clear about Sherlock going to football practice. On the other hand . . . "Let's check your temperature."

It was high.

"Stay. I'll call Mr. Seamus."

Sherlock nodded weakly, and sniffled as he placed his empty teacup in the kitchen sink, and then walked up the stairs.

But he grinned when he closed his bedroom door, and started his computer.


	74. Perspective

He peered at the glasses.

"The lenses show that the woman who wears these is nearsighted. They're an older style, but they show little sign of wear. She must forget to put them on most of the time.

"The crack on the right side indicates a fist to the temple. Unexpected, because her head must have turned toward the blow. The shattered left lens and bend in the frame indicate that an projectile was used. I would be surprised if the woman still lived."

"Wrong, John. Mycroft lives, but wants to kill me for throwing his glasses under a Routemaster."


	75. ASIT

wnm  
JW

You can order online.  
SH

iwbtae  
JW

Use my card.  
SH

ykpwihnmtn  
JW

In the file.  
SH

wf  
JW

I'm surprised you remember your own birthday.  
SH

nh  
JW

Kitchen  
SH

cybms  
JW

mimtt  
SH

Sherlock! You know I can't decipher yours.  
JW

wsicywditm  
SH

Sherlock!  
JW

yaahj  
SH

You weren't answering my texts!  
JW

ytab  
SH

I'm walking to Tesco in the rain with a cough to get the milk.  
JW

dbsd  
SH

But first I'm tossing at least three bags from the refrigerator into the rubbish.  
JW

On my way home with the milk now.  
SH


	76. A Minor Variation

Rob coughed and spit a biscuit into his hand. "This is disgusting!"

"The Cinnamon biscuits?"

"Cinnamon?! This is chilli!"

"What?" John tasted one, and swore loudly. "Cinnamon and Chilli - same color!"

"You baked these?"

"Harry was meant to bake them, but promised to bring me if I did it for her. If Harry finds out about these biscuits, she'll tell Mum I was here drinking, and Mum won't let me play in the final! We _need_ to eat them!"

* * *

Harry rolled her eyes at the rugby team - stumbling around, snorting, and cramming biscuits into their mouths: "After just one beer!"


	77. Overheard at Chilis

"You got the ones with the accents! I'm SO jealous. And the tall one!"

"Hm."

"Seriously! I would kill just to take their orders. Just to hear. Oh! You're so lucky!"

"Well, I could barely understand a word they said. Not to mention..."

"But he was so hot, Chele. And his hair! Like... if he asked me out, I would say yes and forget Ricky. He can't compete with a guy with an accent. I bet he was French."

"Only if the quieter one wasn't French. They were speaking English. And! He was a terrible tipper."

"Whatever. He was hot."


	78. Sheer Nonsense

"This is new."

"Hm?"

John sat at the table with his laptop, while Sherlock slouched in his chair flipping idly through NOW magazine.

"Ridiculous blog comment."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"'sherlock means blonde lol ' and then a link to . . . oh a picture of you with blond hair. How do I delete— Did you reply, Sherlock? Seriously?"

"They're wrong! People always get it wrong. 'Sher' comes from the old English 'scir' which means 'shining' or 'bright'! It means 'shining hair'! Don't delete my comment!" He stomped off.

"Well . . ." John smiled slowly. "That would explain the women's shampoo in the shower."


	79. In My Life

John grumbled to himself as he walked toward the tube station in the pouring rain without the food he'd wanted from Tesco. His girlfriend had agreed to come back to his Sherlock-free (for three days!) place for dinner.

When the tube station was closed, he accepted it as the price for the evening he was going to have.

Then he entered a flat covered in rubbish that wasn't there two hours ago.

"The case was boring."

Of course.

"And you won't want to go into your bedroom today or tomorrow. You can sleep in mine — I'll be out all night.


	80. Yo no tengo la menor idea

Anderson folded his arms and smirked. "I guess the case doesn't have the je ne sais quoi of violence that you need, then, Sherlock?"

Sherlock continued typing on his phone for a few moments. Then he tossed it to John, and looked up with a bright smile.

"Your French accent sounds like that of an inebriated American. This is an inappropriate use of the French phrase And you have no idea what 'je ne sais quois' means."

John rolled his eyes as Sherlock continued.

"On the other hand, it may be the most accurate observation I have heard from you."


	81. Sunday Driver

Sherlock ran through the events of the day, filing the useful information away on his hard drive, while the French countryside swept past him. It had been a complex case with a satisfying conclusion.

He glanced over at the man in the passenger seat. It had also been a long case. John had not slept for at least forty-eight hours. And he was catching up now, snoring gently. Sherlock smiled.

Then swerved.

John shot forward, gun in hand. "What the—"

"Experiment. Your time in the military has left you with excellent reflexes."

"If you weren't the one driving this car . . ."


	82. Torn

"Shall I send someone to collect the remaining personal effects, sir?"

"No, leave everything for him. He refuses to accept reality. Perhaps . . ." Mycroft shrugged helplessly.

* * *

He sat on the bed and stared into the wardrobe. The colors and the textures — even the unique scent: Familiar, but strangely disturbing.

He reached out and touched a sleeve. He felt the tiny tear before he saw it. He pulled the suit out and examined it closely. That would never do!

Sherlock would have it mended in the morning. John loved that suit, and Sherlock would maintain it _perfectly_ , whether John noticed or not.


	83. Sufficient

John reminded himself again not to scratch the angry red rash that ran down his right arm.

He hadn't _exactly_ given Sherlock permission to apply a histamine solution down his arm with a scouring pad. Yes, Sherlock had asked permission to try something and John's grunt from behind his newspaper hadn't been "no". He should be grateful that Sherlock hadn't put it on his dominant arm. And the histamine-induced swelling was going down, even if the abrasions were growing more painful. It still hurt like—

His phone chimed.

_We got him. Sorry about the arm, but it worked. Thanks. GL_


	84. Service

John replayed the conversation in his head.

_"But you're a doctor! We both heal people—not kill them! That's why we're here. I'm applying to work for the WHO and you're—John! I thought we agreed—"_

_"I never said I was joining any—"_

_"But you_ implied _it, John. You clearly—"_

It had been a long "discussion" of expectations and dreams that he hadn't known were part of their relationship.  
Certainly not the send-off he'd been hoping for. He probably should have told her earlier.

He picked up his Browning and took aim, all thoughts of Susan gone from his head.


	85. "Was it for this the clay grew tall?"

_It's Frieeeday, Frieeday, Frieeday, OOOOOHHH! It's—_

"Turn it off!"

_Fun, fun, think about fun_

"John!"

_Tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday comes afterwards_

"Off!"

John just stared silently at his laptop.

Sherlock threw a pillow at the laptop, which flew off the table and closed, leaving the room in silence.

He smiled to himself as he started water in the kettle.

He would delete the song momentarily. He would _not_ delete the picture of John struggling (and failing) to erase the song from his own hard drive.

Just as he did every time he tried to punish Sherlock with Rebecca Black.


	86. Read More

Sherlock was about to close John's blog – John hadn't updated since 16 June – when he noticed a comment on the entry. After John had disabled comments. Probably managed to undo it.

He opened the link. IP address hidden.

_missing your boyfriend ? im not sorry  
_ _** xeysew143** _ _24 June 15:33_

Typical hacker. Sherlock just logged in as John, deleted the comment, and checked to see if John had seen it. He hadn't.

Over the next few weeks Sherlock intercepted sixteen increasingly angry and even obscene comments.

He tracked the man down within twenty-four hours of intercepting the seventeenth – a death threat.


	87. Newton's Laws

John stared at the kitchen table. It needed cleaning. Mrs. Hudson would do it if he asked her. He opened the hall door, but just as he opened his mouth to shout he thought better of it and closed the door.  
He flipped through an old newspaper he found on the floor.

_"Holmes's rising fame was truly meteoric - brilliant and brief – and like all meteors it hurtled to earth dramatically."_

John winced.

It was a terrible sentence – even _he_ could see that. He imagined Sherlock's eye-roll and scathing commentary. Were meteors even on Sherlock's hard drive?

John almost smiled.


	88. Effect Detective

"Sherlock you—” John hissed. “You’re _insane_!”  
  
Sherlock sighed, and waved at the curved mirror to their right.  
  
John looked at it.  He felt like he was blushing, though he couldn’t see anything under the thick paint.  
  
“I can’t run in these shoes, so if that lion isn’t tame—”  
  
“Quiet, Bubbles!”


	89. Arrangements

"Did someone die?"

Sherlock poked his head through one of the enormous chrysanthemum wreaths. "You can stop crying. I'm still quite alive."

"Sympathy bouquets for me, then."

"Experiment." Sherlock walked back to the table.

"Well you—" John sneezed. "You need—"

"That's why I couldn't bring these into St. Bart's. Mrs. Hudson will let you kip on her couch for a week."

* * *

Years later, when Sherlock nearly convinced John's fiancée to use chrysanthemums in the floral arrangements, John chose to be flattered that Sherlock remembered such a trivial detail, rather than offended at Sherlock's most recent attempt to keep his blogger.


	90. as i pronounced it to you, trippingly

"If you two say another thing about Crispin or Henry—"

"We'll be your brothers, be we ne'er so vile?"

"No, Rob, I think John means to say that we men shall gentle our conditions."

"I mean that if you don't leave _now_ , Craig, you'll be showing _many_ wounds tomorrow."

"Shame you couldn't have remembered that line when you were reciting it."

"I remembered the speech. I just can't talk in front of people."

"People, or Dianne?"

"Ooooh! Johnny boy's in love."

"Shut it."

"We're your friends, mate. You can't hide from us."

". . . _Why_ did she have to be the prompter!"


	91. Laurels

Holmes's reputation as a genius who defied convention had preceded him. When the Honorable Mr. Justice Adams was merely Roger Adams the undergraduate, he had snatched his share of policeman's helmets, so to speak. Intelligence was ever under-appreciated. Adams had been inclined to be indulgent.

He had been a fool.

Sherlock was a . . . That is to say, he . . . No. There was no other way to put it. Sherlock Holmes was a _smartarse_.

* * *

John was muttering under his breath while Sherlock followed the policemen from the courtroom: ". . . I _warned_ him, but Sherlock Holmes is _far_ too clever to listen to _me_. . ."


	92. Unpredictable

Even at Mrs. Hudson's rate, Sherlock was going to have to find a flatmate. And that was tricky business. He needed someone who would leave him to his work, who would not mind his hours or his scientific equipment. No students – they were too loud and very temporary.

Could he advertise?

Were flatmate searches like personals? "Consulting detective seeks flatmate. Must be willing to be run over rough-shod?

Molly would share with him. She'd be perfect if she didn't fancy him. Or like cats.

* * *

In the end, perfect was a crack shot with strong moral principles and nerves of steel.


	93. Lacunae

John was closing his June 25th copy of the Daily Mail when he first realized what he had not seen since it happened.

A thousand articles answered the same question: _Why did he do it?_

"Brook and Holmes — Lovers!"

"Partners in Crime!"

"Siblings separated at birth!"

"Long time rivals in a little-known Yorkshire theatre troupe!"

(John had almost laughed at that).

John Watson was never mentioned. Not even as his blogger. They probably assumed the blog was a lie.

John was no longer the subject of gossip. He no longer had a tabloid nickname.

He never thought he'd miss it.


End file.
